


Save the Last Dance for Me

by mygreatestjoyandprivilege



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post-The Sign of Three, Sherlock as John's teacher, Slow Dancing, angsty stupid babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mygreatestjoyandprivilege/pseuds/mygreatestjoyandprivilege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had given John dancing lessons in preparation for his first dance with Mary, and all he wanted in return was a dance with his doctor. But things could never be that easy. Because people talk. They always talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the Last Dance for Me

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking about how Sherlock gave John dancing lessons "behind closed doors" and well then this fic happened. It's sad and angsty and I'm sorry but this is what these idiots drive me to do. I needed a whisky after writing this fic.

John missed Sherlock. It was that simple. He had been “happily married” for over a month and was starting to get restless. He hadn’t heard much from his consulting detective friend since the wedding, and it was starting to worry him.

He knew what Sherlock was trying to do. No matter how often John had insisted that things wouldn’t change between them just because he was becoming a husband and retiring from his bachelor ways, he was wrong. He had said it so many times mainly as a comfort to himself, even if in the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t true.

Of course things were going to change. How could they not? Not only was John married, but he was expecting a child with Mary now. Fatherhood was a whole other reality he wasn’t quite expecting.

But it was this harsh reality that both Sherlock and John were all too aware of. In every scenario John tried to create in his mind—scenarios that Sherlock had undoubtedly calculated within minutes of hearing of John’s engagement—everything ended with them drifting apart.

Whether it be because John got too busy with his future child, Mary wanted him to spend more time with her, or he needed to pick up more shifts at the surgery to help support his family, he wouldn’t be able to go out on cases with Sherlock forever. And it was surprising John how much that was hurting him.

The night of the wedding was when John and Sherlock really realized how much their relationship was going to change. They could always say so much to each other with just an exchanged glance, and the look that Sherlock had given him that night after he had told them about Mary’s pregnancy was a look that broke John’s heart.

It was a look that said, _I’m so sorry, good-bye, I think I’m in love with you and have been for years but I don’t know how to say it so I’m trying to tell you like this right now_. John knew. Of course he knew. It wasn’t until Sherlock had come back to him after being “dead” for two years for John to realize the true depth of his friend’s feelings, but he knew.

It had happened one night when Sherlock was teaching John how to dance. John was absolutely useless when it came to dancing, but Sherlock was remarkably light on his feet. The only reason John accepted his help was because he was too embarrassed to pay for professional lessons and he knew Sherlock wouldn’t tell anyone if John asked him not to.

So Sherlock taught John the basics of the waltz and a few other simple dances, insisting that he needed to learn them so he didn’t embarrass himself at his own wedding. John may have stepped on Sherlock’s foot a few extra times on purpose at that comment.

John was overly embarrassed about the whole thing and insisted that they only practice at night, with the curtains drawn, long after Mrs. Hudson had gone to bed. The last thing he needed was Mrs. Hudson walking in on them. John had enough trouble as it was convincing Mrs. Hudson he wasn’t actually gay.

One night, a few weeks into their dance lessons, John had finally been getting the hang of the waltz, which was the most important dance as it would be his first dance with his new wife. He wasn’t great, but even Sherlock remarked he had been improving steadily.

Sherlock was incredibly cautious and timid with John at the beginning. He barely touched John to adjust him and made him practice by himself, with his hands poised in the air to mimic a person opposite to him. He would do the steps and movements right along with John to demonstrate, and they would practice side by side. John laughed at how ridiculous they must have looked, but even he could admit that it was working.

Slowly as they danced more and more, Sherlock became more comfortable with himself and gained confidence as John’s instructor. He adjusted John’s posture or body with firm touches automatically without hesitation, whereas before he practically hovered above John, as if he was unwilling to do so much as touch his friend’s arm.

John didn’t mind the feeling of Sherlock’s long, nimble fingers on his waist or arms, adjusting him to the correct posture, but he would never say that out loud. He also suspected the reason why Sherlock was so hesitant to touch him, but he didn’t dare voice that either.

One night, after Sherlock had grown frustrated at John’s stumbling and skipping over the steps, he sighed and said, “Stop! Just stop.”

He shook his head as John stopped and threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Well if you just keep yelling at me I’m not going to do any better, Sherlock!” he said in an irritated voice. He crossed his arms and looked at Sherlock expectantly.

“Well if you would listen to me, you would do better, _John_ ,” Sherlock replied with an edge to his voice.

“You’re impossible,” John said, blowing air through his nose and looking up at the ceiling.

“You’re not much better,” Sherlock scoffed. “Now come here. Maybe it’ll help if I actually dance with you. It might help to have a real partner for once.”

Sherlock stepped in front of John, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Put your hands on my waist, John.”

John laughed nervously at the sudden proximity of the six foot man in front of him. He suddenly felt warm and didn’t know why. “What?” he managed, swallowing hard.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. “I said, put your hands on my waist,” he replied, taking John’s hands and moving them to his waist for him. He returned his hands to John’s shoulders. “Now pretend I’m Mary.”

John laughed out loud despite himself. “You wish.”

Sherlock cracked a smile at that. “Come on, I’m just trying to help you.”

John grinned, still chuckling. “Okay, okay, fine… _Mary_.”

Sherlock burst into a fit of giggles for a moment then finally pulled himself together. “If we don’t start practicing Mrs. Hudson’s going to walk in any moment and wonder why we’re standing in the middle of the living room with your hands on my waist and my hands on your shoulders. It may look a bit odd.”

John smiled, biting his lip to hold back any more fits of laughter. He nodded. “Okay, let’s go. The waltz?”

“Yes. That appears to be the area you are most lacking in coordination skills,” Sherlock replied, moving one of John’s hands off his waist and taking it in his, putting them in the proper waltz position.

John tried not to notice how warm Sherlock’s hand felt in his and cleared his throat. “Ready?”

Sherlock nodded, and John began to count, looking down at their feet as they slowly began to go through the steps. After John stepped on Sherlock’s foot three times and they had to start over each time, John was beginning to lose his patience.

“John,” said Sherlock in an even tone. “You’re doing well. Try following my lead, and then I’ll let you take over. We’ll go slow.”

John exhaled deeply. He wanted more than anything to get this right, and having an actual dance partner rather than an imaginary one was actually helping, even if it was Sherlock. He just wasn’t progressing as quickly as he wanted to.

After about ten more minutes of practicing, with several stumbles, stepped on feet, and Sherlock having to restart the whole dance at least five times, they finally had a steady rhythm going and John appeared to be getting the hang of it. He was incredibly focused, staring down at his feet and Sherlock’s feet intently as he counted the steps to himself in a whisper. He didn’t care that he was holding Sherlock’s hand anymore, he just cared about finally getting this stupid dance right.

After a few more minutes, they finally had an almost perfect waltz going.

“That’s it,” Sherlock murmured quietly, trying not to break John’s concentration.

John tried lifting his head to look at Sherlock while they danced and he grinned when they kept moving at the same smooth rhythm. “I think I got it!” John said excitedly as they continued their waltz.

Sherlock immediately grinned in response. “Well done, John,” he said. “I told you could do it.” He smiled at John encouragingly.

John grinned back, unable to contain his pride.

Suddenly John tripped over a spot on the rug and lost his balance. He stumbled forward into Sherlock’s chest, instinctively throwing his arms around Sherlock’s middle to prevent him from falling over completely, his face smashing into the smooth material of Sherlock’s dress shirt.

He yelled “Shit!” as he tripped and then landed with an “Oof,” into Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock’s arms wrapped around John automatically to help balance him, and they were caught in an entangling embrace of limbs everywhere.

“Sorry,” John said, his cheeks reddening slightly as he lifted his face off of Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock immediately released John in response. “It’s fine,” Sherlock replied, his face even more flushed than John’s. He cleared his throat. “That was…that was really good. Best I’ve seen,” he managed.

John nodded, avoiding eye contact with Sherlock. “Thanks.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and when John finally raised his eyes to Sherlock’s, his breath caught at the way those sharp blue eyes were looking at him. He swallowed hard, unable to look away.

A second passed and then Sherlock stepped forward, taking John’s face gently in his hands, and kissed him softly. John froze at first but then kissed Sherlock back gingerly, stepping closer to him and placing his hands on Sherlock’s slim waist once more. Sherlock placed a hand on the back of John’s head and moved his lips tenderly yet insistently against John’s, and John responded eagerly.

After a minute more of this gentle kissing, John allowed Sherlock to slip his tongue into his mouth. He parted his lips and moved them in a rhythm with Sherlock’s, savoring the moment.

Finally they pulled away, and Sherlock dropped his hands to his sides, pressing his forehead against John’s as they breathed heavily against one another.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and John knew without asking what he meant.

“Me too,” John responded quietly, lifting his head, dropping his hands from Sherlock’s waist and taking a step back.

John tried to ignore the tears he could see forming in Sherlock’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to step forward and take Sherlock’s face in his hands then kiss him with all his might. He would have taken him on the sofa right then and there. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t, for Mary’s sake, even if he wanted to.

“I wish…I wish I had waited for you…” John said quietly, finding the courage to look Sherlock directly in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” Sherlock replied.

“But it is. It was only after you came back that I realized how good I had it. I wish I hadn’t ever met Mary so I could have found that out for myself. Because I feel like I’m marrying the wrong person.”

Sherlock gave John a weak smile. “No you’re not. You love Mary and Mary loves you. And please, we can barely dance decently together without wanting to tear each other’s throats out, how would we be able to make a marriage work?”

John smiled and chuckled despite himself. He shook his head and looked at Sherlock. “Mary was never the best thing to happen to me. You were.”

He then took a step forward, reaching his hand up to stroke Sherlock’s cheek gently. John stood on his tiptoes and kissed Sherlock’s forehead before pulling away and dropping his hand. “And I am so sorry it has to be like this.”

Sherlock bit his lip hard, trying to hold back his tears. “The feeling is mutual.”

John choked back sudden tears of his own. "I should have fought for you. I should have fought so much harder for you," he said in a strangled voice.

Sherlock shook his head. "There was no need to fight for me, John. I have been and always will be right here," he whispered. 

Before John could stop himself, he threw his arms around Sherlock, pulling him close. Sherlock stumbled backwards a step in surprise but then quickly snaked his arms around John in response. He held him as tight as he could in his arms, sighing and closing his eyes as he rested his cheek on the top of John’s head.

For a moment they just stood like that, holding each other and not speaking. Neither of them could bear to think what would happen when they finally pulled away.

Finally John forced himself to release Sherlock, exhaling deeply and stepping back, awkwardly holding his hands in fists at his sides. He avoided Sherlock’s eyes, at a loss for what to say.

Sherlock did the same, smoothing down his purple dress shirt and then crossing his arms, staring intently down at a piece of the rug.

“John, promise me one thing,” Sherlock said suddenly, looking up at John.

“Anything,” John breathed without hesitation.

“Save the last dance for me at the wedding? A teacher is only as good as his pupil, and I want to make sure you actually learned something from me.”

John smiled and laughed. “Fair enough. But you know, people will talk.”

Sherlock smiled a little and shook his head. “When do they not?”

John chuckled. “True. Yes, I promise.”

And with that, Sherlock had smiled and John grabbed his coat to let himself out.

But John didn’t keep his promise. He honestly didn’t get the chance to.

Later on in the night, as the guests were beginning to leave the wedding reception and the dancing was dying down, John had smiled at Mary and said, “I promised Sherlock a dance.” Mary had laughed and nodded.

“Of course you did. Go on then, find him. He’s probably lurking by the punch bowl making sure no one’s gone and poisoned it.”

But John looked everywhere and couldn’t find Sherlock. He asked Greg, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson and no one had seen him since he played his violin.

John did manage to find a slightly tipsy Janine getting handsy with a tall bloke he had seen her dancing with earlier and pulled her away from him to ask her if she had seen Sherlock recently.

After thinking especially hard for a moment—as she was halfway through what had to be at least her fifth glass of champagne—she looked at John and said, “No, I don’t think I’ve seen him. I waved to him when I started dancing with Steve and then he disappeared. He probably went home. He’s not big on weddings.”

John sighed, running a hand over his face. “Okay, thanks anyway.”

Before Janine returned to her date, she pointed at John accusingly and jabbed her finger into his chest, almost sloshing champagne all over his suit. “You know, he really cares about you. Mary too, but especially you. Sherlock would do anything for you. He would probably even die for you.”

John looked at her. “I know,” he said quietly,swallowing with difficulty. Sherlock had already done just that, not that Janine was aware of that information.

Janine paused to take a sip from her glass. “And I’m worried about him, John. I just met him today, but I’m still worried. He’s a good man, Sherlock Holmes. But he’s sad. So sad. And so lonely. You gotta keep an eye on him for me.”

John sighed and nodded. “I will. Now go back to Steve, I think he’s missing you.”

Janine smiled and patted John’s cheek. “Thank you, Doctor Watson.” She then turned and shouted behind her, “Hey John! Smile! It’s your wedding!”

John smiled back weakly in response. “That’s exactly the problem,” he said under his breath. He sighed and returned to the dance floor to find Mary.

And a little over a month later, after he hadn’t heard from or seen much of Sherlock in weeks, John found Sherlock in a drug den on the outskirts of London. The look on Sherlock’s face when he smiled up at him from the dirty, grimy bed he was laying on, saying cheerily “Have you come for me too?” broke John’s heart.

He almost didn’t recognize Sherlock. And he knew exactly what had driven him to that place, which only broke his heart even more. Maybe if he had kept his promise to Sherlock, things wouldn’t be like this, but John would never know.

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were finally drifting apart, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.


End file.
